


Combat

by LevvyWut



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Car Accidents, Denial, Injury Recovery, M/M, Major Character Injury, Otabyuri, Yuri is written as Yuri, Yurio is very sad, and Otabek tries to understand, and Yuuri is written as Yuuri, otayuri - Freeform, self-hate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-12
Updated: 2017-01-12
Packaged: 2018-09-17 00:43:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9296714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LevvyWut/pseuds/LevvyWut
Summary: "Yuri, you look like you've fallen in combat."





	

Yuri remembered everything. He was awake for all of it; and even if he had wanted to forget, he couldn't deny that he was awake. He saw everything, from the indentation of half their vehicle to the flames roaring as it set on fire. He remembered the pain as he tried his damnedest to untangle his broken body from the twisted seat belt. His one armed crawling from their flaming heap that was formerly a car didn't do anything to ease his agony; neither did the smell of his own burning hair. It was enough to make him sick.

The feeling of broken glass digging into his back and face was excruciating, but even more so was watching them pull his grandfather from the wreck and hearing him screaming Yuri's name over and over again. He finally brought himself to call back, numbing adrenaline leaving him. He felt like he was being lit on fire.

Being moved to the stretcher brought agonizing screams from his lips, yet his consciousness never waned. He felt shifting bones every time they moved him; broken glass stung his skin. Tears were welling in his eyes. When the ambulance was finally moving, every lurch along the way began to bring black dots to his vision; the world, the medics' voices, it all began to fade to a background buzz. It wasn't but minutes before they arrived at the hospital that his vision finally faded.

* * *

 

His brain lagged when he awoke some time later, and it took a while to register his grandfather. Nikolai sat a few short feet away, small bandages dotting across his relatively uninjured body. A sense of relief washed over him as his grandfather took his hand. 

"Yura, are you awake?"

"Yes,"His voice scratched against his throat. "Are you alright?"

"Yes, Yura. I've nothing to worry about aside from you."

Yuri tried to shift, tried to sit up, but he was stopped by an unbearable grinding from the breaks in his bones. He only then noticed the casts, the bandages, the sling on his shoulder. His grandfather gripped his hand. 

_"I'm sorry, Yura."_

* * *

 

Just being in the rink was therapeutic for him. Even if he couldn't skate, even if the cold sent aching chills into his injuries, he loved the atmosphere. 

No one treated him any differently. A broken leg and ankle; a fractured collarbone and wrist hadn't changed anything aside from his inability to skate. Viktor was still an ass, Yuuri was still acting like a mom, Mila still treated him as a little brother, and Georgi was still....Georgi. Nothing seemed to change aside from the seemingly ever present clicking of Yuri's crutches. 

It was only after the news hit that the atmosphere changed. 

Yuri had a limp. It wasn't subtle at all. His leg hurt when he put even a slight bit of pressure on it. Even after months of fully regaining mobility of every other appendage, he struggled with the pain.

Yuuri asked him if he was okay. Of course he said yes. 

Viktor stopped him to ask if he was going to quit skating. His answer was no.

Mila gave him some strange hug that he didn't need.

And Georgi even looked at him with some form of smudged-lipstick pity.

Yuri hated it. He refused to quit just because of some stupid jerk of his kneecap. That was his thought, until he set foot on the ice.

His legs seemed to be against his every move, each step agonizing. The effort had him leaning over the rink's wall, his breath coming in heavy gasps even from skating for moments. Viktor and his fiance' lead him to the locker room where he could sit. 

When Yuuri tried to put a hand on his shoulder, Yuri swatted it away with a indignant bark of 'leave me alone!!', and Yuuri scuttled away, frightened. Viktor knelt, trying to make eye contact with Yuri, but the protege just avoided the glance until Viktor stood back up. 

_"I'm sorry Yurio."_

* * *

 

He was tired of hearing all the apologies. He was tired of being made to feel as if it was the end of his life just because _he **limped**_. Yuri was constantly telling himself that he'd somehow return to the ice, but there wasn't anything doctors could do. Why he went to the Grand Prix that year, even knowing there would be countless apologies, he didn't know. 

He blew up at the wrong person, and he felt like absolute _shit_.

"Yuri, you look like you've fallen in combat."

Otabek Altin glanced to the sky as he spoke, sitting next to an already seething Yuri. The Kazakh's hands were folded together as he spoke, one thumb running over his knuckles. Yuri's eyes flickered to Otabek. 

"You'll need to talk about this eventually. _I'm sorry it happened_ -"

"Shut up."

His voice was a hiss, fists clenched, white knuckled around the absence of an object in his pockets. He had to think before he spoke, not wanting Otabek to be angry with him. Otabek was the one person he wasn't willing to upset. 

"I'm tired of hearing everyone saying sorry over and over again. So save it."

Otabek sighed. Yuri sank down into his jacket, expecting some kind of lecture, but nothing came. He looked up, wondering when his friend was going to speak, only to see him watching the current skater. It was as if he'd brushed it off. Then he stood up, rifling through his pocket and pulling out a small slip of notebook paper. 

"You can call me if you need me, you know."

Yuri unfolded the paper, but by the time he'd read it and went to say something, Otabek was walking away.

* * *

 

The first time he called, Otabek didn't answer. The second time, Yuri was breaking down. 

He'd tried to skate again. It went okay, until he jumped. Until he did the one thing he'd always been confident that he was good at and flubbed it. He didn't know what to do as he sat alone in his house, his cat purring around his legs as his face lay in his hands.

Tears stung. 

His fingers dialed the number unconsciously. 

Once.

Twice.

Three times it rang.

Then a deep, sleepy voice picked up.

"Hello?"

"It's Yuri."

They sat in silence for a good few minutes

Then Yuri swallowed his pride. He swallowed all the times he'd told people to go away or leave him alone. He swallowed the part of him that still had hope that he could somehow skate again. He swallowed the Yuri that he'd always been. He swallowed the teenager that would cry only when he was lone because he was ashamed of something he could've never changed.

And he swallowed his inability to speak. 

"I need to talk."

You could hear the smile in Otabek's voice.

"Okay then, let's talk."

* * *

 

Talking escalated to flirting. Flirting escalated to the Yuri's Angels shipping. Shipping lead to 'why not?', and 'why not?' lead to them becoming a couple.

Them becoming a couple lead to Otabek coming back to Yuri's rink for the first time in years, just to visit.

And Otabek tried to hold out a hand.

Yuri was reluctant.

He was terrified.

He knew that he couldn't do it.

But it was Otabek. The person he'd trusted with his feelings. The person he'd trusted with his love.

So he took his hand.

And he fell. 

But Otabek pulled him back up, steadying his shaking legs and tugging him along the ice.

Otabek pulled him back up every time until Yuri was red faced and frustrated. It was a strange, heavy moment, the air seemingly solid with tension.

Only a peck.

Yuri was red faced; his boyfriend was even worse.

" _I'm not sorry, Yuri._ "

* * *

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I needed Yurio angst in my life. 
> 
> Also its three a.m
> 
> At least my class doesn't start till five p.m tomorrow.
> 
> Haha~


End file.
